The Red Candle
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Youji goes back to save Aya on a mission, and ends up reborn, was on it's way to a pwp
1. Default Chapter

The Red Candle

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK

Youji purred into the comlink, so confident that he could have melted chilled honey. "I'm just going back to check on him. He's just being too anal."

Nothing about this mission had been perfect, more like well timed near disaster. The mission had been to take out a yakuza who was dealing in weapon technology. Said yakuza seemed to have had a friend somewhere, as he knew they were coming. He was still dead, and about thirty of his gangbangers with him. Youji leaned against a wall, let out a bit more of his wire, and felt glad that blood didn't show so well on black. He was tired of blood. Tired of evil. Tired enough to want to make a mistake, except, except he had yet to get Aya to smile at him, and when he thought of those violet eyes, he found he still longed for something.

Love was a vile horrible thing, because it made him fight to live still. "Demon?"

Aya's response to Youji's improvised code name was deeper, hidden within him. He had fifteen opponents still and the only thing that kept them from ganging up on him was some misbegotten idea of sport between them. It did take two or three of them at a time took keep him from dispatching them faster. They had see him. He or they had to die. Until Youji's whisper through his comlink, he could have gone either way.

He didn't see one of the gangsters behind him pull the gun. It was only a matter of time, doing what they did, that they wouldn't see something coming.

The snap of wire, crunch of sudden amputation, that he heard. Spinning, he saw Youji falling, spinning, black trench coat body armor flaring. His wire came down slower, lingering in the moment of Youji's defeat, even as Youji's life passed before Aya's life.

Youji shouldn't have been between Aya and the bullet. There wasn't supposed to be a dozen extra gang members either. Time crept as Aya withdrew his katana from the belly of a wiry man whose pistol clattered against the cement floor. Rage danced along Aya's skin, along the sharpened length of his katana. They were one being, the man and his sword. Aya had accepted his own death; Youji's death was not acceptable.

Blood splattered over gray cement, an arch from Youji's temple, raining down as if the sky cried red tears. That red was the only red Aya saw as it pooled on the rough cement. Youji hit face down, wound hidden by golden waves of hair that Aya had never gotten to touch.

In his comlink he heard Omi calling to him, saying that Youji had not returned to the pick up point. So distant, Omi's calls were a life time away, separated by hundreds of moments in Aya's memories, moments of Youji's smiles, laughter, dark moods, the cologne Youji wore, hints of flirting, distanced by Aya's endless hopeless need for revenge before new love. Bullets cut through air, snapping like tiny dragons as he moved, cutting down the unplanned for opponents. So little emotion accompanied the movements, slice, kick, see Youji's life, hear his own favorite violin concerto, and under it, Omi's screaming like the final tether to sanity he hadn't known he'd already lost. Revenge had pickled his soul slowly over the years since his parent's deaths, and until that moment, as the last of their opponents fell, Aya hadn't realized what had held him back from complete emptiness.

He turned, sword lowered, the back of his other hand smearing blood where it touched his face. "Youji."


	2. Two

The Red Candle

By Nix Winter

Notes: I don't own WK, alas, but I do own some others.

"Youji?" Aya asked, stepping into Youji's room. It had been two weeks since Youji had been shot.

"If you say so," the blond said, smiling playfully as he looked up from the video game he was playing. "What's going on, Beautiful?"

Aya closed the door behind him. "I came to check on you," Aya nearly whispered. So far everyone was putting his increased attention to Youji down to the fact that he felt guilty, or some responsibility for the blond's injury. What he really felt was hope, a fluttering kind of excitement even. "How are you feeling?"

Aya smiled as he sat down in the only other chair in the room. The smile made him feel lighter than air, fluttery like a yaoi girl in bishonen heaven. He hadn't known he was attracted to men when his family had been lost, and then revenge had been his only attraction, until Youji pried his way under the ice. So this feeling, confusing, disturbing, was most easily compared to the way he'd seen his sister with her manga.

The smile widened a little. It only made it better that Youji didn't know that Aya didn't smile. Youji didn't remember Aya, so that left room for Ran to be reborn, at least in the secrecy of Youji's room.

"I'm good," Youji said, putting his gameboy down. His hair was shorter now, trimmed to a little over an inch on most of his head, because it had to be shaved over the wound. Gauze dressing still covered the seven inch gash. "I'm fine, you k now. I beat the sixth level just before you came in. How are you?"

There was an edge of flirt to his voice, a warmth that Aya had only seen hints of before the depression had pulled Youji under. This warmth and fire in Youji spread easily to Aya, making sexual warmth rise in him. Aya couldn't even bring himself to shove the attraction away. It was too vital, too much a part of the tenuously fragile life he saw in Youji.

"I'm well," Aya said. He shifted a little in his seat, scratched the back of his neck. He was a man.. Men didn't really feel these kinds of things. Men didn't find hardness hiding under their sweater for the first time in months when sitting near another man. Especially not a man who was as powerful and masculine as Youji, graceful with such strong hands, such beautiful eyes like emerald magic drawing him in. Youji's lips, soft and full, so very expressive , sometimes covered in lip gloss even, those were not the lips that a real man longed to kiss, to press his lips too, smother under a possessive kiss, and share with no one ever again. Youji didn't have the kind of hair a man wanted to touch, wild and golden, short and silken and so damn masculine.

"Aya, Baby," Youji purred softly, sounding so much like his old self, from Aya had first met him. "Do you have something on your mind?"

Goosebumps sprinkled over the back of Aya's neck. Youji's voice was like a warm blanket, all silk warmth. "I will not take advantage of you in your current state."

"Oh?" Youji asked, hand under his chair as he helped himself scoot forward. "What state is that? Would that be the state of being out of this world attracted to you or the state of wanting to touch your hair to see if it's real?"

Aya pressed himself back in the chair, eyes watching Youji's fingers glide across his knee. "No, idiot, i mean your amnesia."

"Oh," Youji purred, moving just a little closer, until one of his knees touched Aya's, and Aya's face flushed. "That. I remember that I love you. I remember dreaming about you many times. I know the first thing I knew was your voice. Yelling at me, likely, but I remember you. We are lovers, aren't we?"

"No," Aya said, leaping from the chair, to move behind it. "We are not lovers. I'm taking care of you because you're my friend."

Youji followed, moving into the other chair, hands on the back, thumbs caressing the back of Aya's hands. "You don't have to protect me. I'm not so fragile. You don't have to pretend we weren't lovers. I know you have a scar on your back, right side and that I always thought it looked like a rose stem. I know the carpet matches the drapes, if you know what I mean." He followed that with a wolfish grin.

Aya's cheeks matched his hair. "It's not what you think! We're not lovers."

Youji's warm hands slide over Aya's, gliding towards his wrists, when the red head pulled away, backing towards the door. "You don't remember, but you're not gay. You like girls. You have a different date every night. I'm not gay."

Youji's green eyes narrowed. He pivoted in the chair, one leg over, leaning back against the side of the large padded chair. One bare foot moved swung slowly, the frayed ends of his blue jeans brushing against pale skin. "That's too bad. A broken heart can't be good for my health."

"You can't seduce me," Aya said, violet eyes narrowing in defensive anger. "And broken heart? How can your heart be broken? You don't even remember me."

Youji rolled forward, wrapping his arms around his knee. "But Aya, you're my only memory. You're the only truth I know. I Love you."

Panic set in and Aya forgot how to breathe. An admission of love was the last thing he'd ever expected from Youji! Love was the last thing he'd really expected from anyone. He couldn't breath, literally. Panting, he reached for the door. Just being attracted to Youji was enough of a shock. Black lights danced around the edge of his vision, and just as the world lost all balance, strong arms caught him and pulled him close.

He out massed Youji by a good twenty pounds of muscle, but it was Youji's strength that pulled him out of the darkness. "Aya, Aya, Beautiful," Youji's voice soothed, "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's not like a serial killer or something. I'm not going to hurt you. Come sit with me here on the bed. It'll be alright,"

For the second time since he'd been Aya, not Ran, he found himself crying before he knew he was crying, arms clinging to Youji's bare chest. Fingers slowly combed through his hair, soothing, comforting, but he didn't hear the words, all he heard was the beating of Youji's heart.

Slowly Youji's words settled into a soft humming, a comforting murmur that was nothing he remembered, just a wordless song from the deepest of the collective human spirit.

Aya's words rose. "I was so afraid, Youji," he whispered, clinging to Youji, wet cheek against Youji's bare chest. "Just like my family, just like my sister, I saw you falling and it was all my fault! Youji, I love you. I'll die if you end up dead on some floor somewhere and God, I'm so disgusting! I want to touch you and kiss you and make sure you're breathing and hold you so that I know you're alright."

Now it was Youji's turn to shiver, as he ran his hand down Aya's back. So many things he did not remember. He didn't know what he was doing to get a bullet wound to the head. "What's wrong with wanting that? I know I don't remember a lot of things, but I don't think it's a crime to love someone in Japan. Is it?"

"You wouldn't love when your memories return, and I will have used you."

Youji scooted back onto his bed, guiding Aya in with him. He wiped his face with loving fingers, drying away tears. "I will remember what I'm feeling now too, and I'll know I was the one that needed you," Youji said, lifting Aya's chin with the side of his hand, as he leaned forward to steal a kiss.


	3. three

Hours passed. Darkness filtered in through the window slowly, but Youji's mind had been growing lighter. The man he held in his arms slept restlessly, shivering in the inner grip of some dark dream, panting as if he ran from something. Youji had stretched out next to him on the bed, arm pillowing his head, other arm rubbing his back. Whatever the hell had happened to his Beautiful one, it was more than just a gunshot to the head.  
  
The past was less than smoke in Youji's mind. Of his own life, he remembered only Aya's violet eyes, the sound of Aya's voice. He knew he had to be at least 23 or 24, so there had to be more. There had to be family, a job, a life, but he didn't feel any burning urge to seek them out. He knew he'd been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, but even that seemed odd. Not like any hospital he could imagine, but he put that down to not really remembering anything. Deep down in his soul he knew he didn't want to remember.  
  
As Aya's sleep deepened, he slipped free of the bed. His body remembered a style of martial art that his head had no name for. Graceful and fitting easily with his body, he flowed through a kata of tai chi like blocks and kicks. Fatigue set in quickly in his legs, back, but not a bad kind, just the kind that said he was a little rusty, that he hadn't moved that way so much recently. Curious about what kind of movements he had been making, he closed his eyes and let his body move in the most comfortable way. With his eyes closed he felt his body move through a new kata, one that when he opened his eyes, he could almost see the oddest cat's cradle ever between his  
fingers. His mind rejected the kata violently. This wasn't real, this kata!  
  
Shaking his fingers as if they'd been burned, he moved to his closet, and quietly picked himself a shirt, something loose and cottony. There were black clothes in the back of the closet, leather and long, like gothic assassin costumes and those revolted him just as much as the kata had.  
  
Wearing just the untucked shirt, frayed blue jeans, and the dressing around his head, he slipped out of his room and down the stairs. There was a shop below, clean and bright, filled with beautiful things. He liked this much better than the dark ghost clothing in his  
closet. Leaning on the railing, Youji watched the other two of his friends, a Ken and an Omi, deal with a whole throng of school girls. Snickering, he wondered if they were selling home work solutions. Watching the girls, he felt a great feeling of warmth and love for the world. It wasn't sexual attraction like when he was near Aya, but just as precious.  
  
The younger of his friends must have heard him snickering. "Youji-kun! You should be resting."  
  
"I am resting," Youji said, elbow propped up on the railing. "Hello ladies!"  
  
Tittering and giggles went through the shop, blushing and pointing, and Youji wasn't at all sure what he'd done to set that off! About ten girls, young enough to need a baby sitter to old enough to be the baby sitter gathered around the stairs where he lounged. Half a dozen cards were passed up to him, and he plucked respectfully, smiling kindly. "So very kind of you all! But I'm not in any danger, really, just banged my head, that's all."  
  
If they'd been anime girls, there would have been hearts filling the room. "Youji-sama! I was so worried about you! Are you really well?"  
  
"Yes, yes, of course I am, Imouto-chan," he said smiling at her kindly.  
  
"I lit a candle for you at the temple," another said.

"I'm going to do that too!"  
  
"I brought you cakes, last week. Did you like them?"  
  
"They were delicious," Youji lied. His memory was just fine from when he'd woken up in the hospital and he hadn't gotten any cakes. His friend named Omi suddenly found a rack of cards very much in need of dusting. "The best cakes I've ever had!"  
  
"Now now," Ken, who seemed to be both the youngest and the most practical of them all. Youji wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Omi really owned the shop and the rest of them just lived there. "Much more rest is needed. Come and visit tomorrow, please?"  
  
And just like that the whole fan club was swept out of the shop. Chin propped on his palm, amusement dancing in green eyes, Youji wished he had that kind of control over women, over anyone. "How do you do it, Ken-kun?"  
  
Omi turned, blinking and the one Youji had called Ken got this stricken look on his face. Youji grinned, rather crooked, apologetic. "Er, Omi."  
  
"You got our names wrong," the dark haired angry chipmunk said. "Your short term memory going too, Kudou?"  
  
It took Youji half a thought to realize that Kudou was his name. "What'd I ever do to you?" Youji held up a hand. "I don't want to know. Really," he said, as if he implied some kind of sexual innuendo. "Really, look, I'm sorry as hell if I did something that hurt your feelings or something."  
  
Youji padded the rest of the way down the stairs, feeling uncomfortable at the look of complete incredulousness on Chipmunk's face. "I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you, okay?"  
  
"How can you not remember, you bastard," Ken snarled.  
  
"Oh, the hostility in here is a little sharp, uh? You got claws or something? Look. I said I was sorry. You wanna fight or something?"

Youji leaned back, elbows on the counter. "Say, can I have my shoes?"  
  
"Youji-kun," the chibi one said, after glaring at Chipmunk. "If you need something, one of us can go get it for you. What do you need?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of personal, and I'd like to go myself. Do I have any money?" Youji smiled. Those missing cakes ought to be worth something, after all.  
  
"Yes, Youji-kun, you have money," Chibi said. "I will go with you. Ken-kun, you can watch the shop for a little while, right?"  
  
"OH yeah, sure I can," Chipmunk said, nose twitching. "The fan girls have already been and gone."  
  
"You're a pal," Youji said, grinning. "Now, my shoes?"  
  
"Wait here, please," Chibi said, slipping into the kitchen.  
  
As soon as the chibi was gone, Youji straightened up. "So, you got a problem with me?"  
  
"Just be careful with yourself, Dumbass. I don't know what the fuck's wrong with you, but if you get your ass killed, you think I'm gonna go to hell to drag your ass back?"  
  
Youji arched an eyebrow at the tirade. So, he'd done something dangerous, and in the shadows of his mind, he feared that the chipmunk, er Ken, was justified in his anger. "Look, I said I was sorry, and I meant it. I don't know what stupid thing I did, but I'm not feeling like doing anything stupid anymore. I don't think I've felt this good in a long time."  
  
"Yeah?" Ken said, voice low enough that only Youji could hear, moving in close enough that Youji could see the flecks of light brown in the dark eyes. "Yeah? Good for you, but that means the rest of us just have to take care of the things you feel too good to take care of."  
  
"I don't understand," Youji said, confused, a sadness rising in him. "I'm sorry. I'll do whatever I need to."  
  
"You know what I really want from you, Youji?"  
  
"No. What do you want?"  
  
"I want you to stay like this. Don't remember. Even if you remember, don't. Just stay like this. I don't need you getting in my way."  
  
"Ken-kun! Let him be," Omi snapped coming back with a pair of boots in one hand and a wallet in the other. "Youji-kun, Ken-kun's just always had a bit of a temper. He doesn't mean anything."  
  
Could have fooled Youji. For a moment, Youji was pretty sure the look in those dark eyes was down right lethal. For just a moment, he was sure he was looking into the eyes of a killer. He shook off the feeling and reached for the wallet. Giving Omi a smile, he sorted  
through the contents of what seemed like his own wallet. Expensive wallet, worth maybe five hundred dollars just for the soft black leather itself. There was another thousand dollars in the wallet, crisp clean bills, untouched by human hands, probably from the bank. The idea was brand new as well, though the edges were roughed up in an effort to make it look used, but the mag strip was still smooth and shiny. He had the distinct feeling that it was made just for him, just because something on the old one would have sparked memories they didn't want him to have.  
  
Despite being pretty sure that the chipmunk one was really dangerous and pissed off over something personal, Youji didn't feel any danger here. He knew he belonged here in this shop. There was something missing though. Something that had been in his wallet for a long  
time, years. Quickly, growing desperate, he went through all the places of the wallet again. "Where is it? There's something missing."  
  
"What's missing, Youji-kun," Omi asked.  
  
His memory supplied no images, no words. There was... nothing. So blank he almost wanted to bang his head on the counter. But his fingers remembered holding it. It, this missing part of his life, had been an id card, paper, yellowing, folded. Thin paper when he unfolded it.  
He'd been proud of it, so proud. It had been the start of his life, on which everything was going to follow. He didn't know what it was. "I don't know," he admitted sadly, putting the wallet into his back pocket, then went about putting on the boots.  
  
They fit so well, but his skin didn't like being near them. They were like the gothic bitch clothes in his closet. He'd buy new. He had the money. "Let's go. Thanks, Ken-kun. For watching the store and caring and all."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Everything's back to normal, between he and I?" Youji asked Omi, as they left the shop.  
  
"Kind of," Omi said, smiling.  
  
Very soon, Youji was about to find out that Tokyo was a big place if all you wanted was a pair of boots and a red candle. 


End file.
